


hold my hand (don't be so blue)

by peppermintcas



Category: Black Mirror
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintcas/pseuds/peppermintcas
Summary: Blue doesn’t go home that night – she can’t stand to, not after seeing those bodies in the warehouse, not after all that’s happened. When Karin glances at her, then at her car, Blue barely has the energy to nod.





	hold my hand (don't be so blue)

**Author's Note:**

> grumpy perpetually haven't-had-my-coffee-yet hot mess of a detective and her genius techie gf: A STUDY

Blue doesn’t go home that night – she can’t stand to, not after seeing those bodies in the warehouse, not after all that’s happened. When Karin glances at her, then at her car, Blue barely has the energy to nod.

They drive home in silence. Karin’s hands shake, ever so slightly, when opening her door; she gets it on the third try. Blue strips out of her jacket and shoes, curls on the couch while Karin shuffles around the kitchen opening and closing cabinets as quietly as she can. Blue rubs her eyes in exhaustion. They feel raw and itchy from the tears.

Nick Shelton had died, right in front of them.

“Hey,” Karin says. She’s holding a glass of water.

Blue drinks half of it, hands it back. Karin places it on her coffee table and sits down like the energy’s gone out of her. “Jesus,” she says. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Three hundred thousand,” Blue says, and then she’s crying again.

Karin scoots closer and pulls her in. Somewhere distant, Blue registers that she’s getting snot all over Karin’s nice blouse. “Hey,” Karin says, “hey, hey now.”

“My nephew,” Blue says, choked. “My stupid fourteen year old nephew – ”

Karin’s arms tighten around her.

“Nick,” she says, halfway to a sob. “And all those – other people – I couldn’t do anything about – ”

Karin holds her until she’s cried out, silent. When she’s curled up and sniffling – in Karin’s lap, Jesus, she’ll find time to be embarrassed about all of this later – Karin presses her lips against the crown of Blue’s head and sighs gustily. “Blue,” she says.

“It’s my fault,” she says.

Karin doesn’t say anything.

“I should’ve known something was going on, I should’ve realized – his motives, the manifesto – all of it was right there,” Blue says. “I should’ve seen it.”

Karin sounds tired. “Don’t think about it.”

“I can’t not think about it.”

“You can’t blame yourself.” But it’s rote, robotic; that’s just what you say to someone when they’re crying their eyes out in your lap. Blue can hear it, and she feels all the worse for it. Weight, crushing down on her shoulders like Atlas’ sky. Guilt and guilt and more guilt.

Blue buries her head in the curve of Karin’s neck and they fall asleep on the couch. Neither of them have the energy to get up to go to bed.

/

They get up. They go to work.

/

Blue flips through Scholes’ records. “He left the country, remember?”

Karin dumps fruit into the blender. “Where to?”

“Johannesburg,” she says. “South Africa.”

“It’s not much of a lead. It’s been months.”

“I have to go see.”

“Blue,” Karin says. She abandons her smoothie and comes to the couch, her face serious and drawn. It’s looked that way for a while, now; Blue fights the urge to smooth away the worried creases with her thumb. “They’ve got people tracking him now.”

“I have to go see,” she repeats.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t care.” She stands up sharply.

Karin watches her, her eyes wary.

Blue exhales. “I’ll never be able to live with myself,” she says.

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, “He can’t know you’re coming.”

“I know.”

“And we’ll need a secure line of communication.”

“You’ll anchor me,” Blue says.

Karin holds her gaze. “Yes,” she says. A promise.

/

They do make it to the bed, eventually. Blue presses her face into Karin’s neck and breathes and feels Karin’s chest rising and falling, her breath coming too quickly for her to be asleep.

Neither of them have slept soundly since that week.

Her t-shirt’s rucked up, too small and too short by a size, and Karin’s hand is hot on the strip of skin exposed – either by accident or on purpose, Blue doesn’t care – her fingers circling idly over the small of Blue’s back. It’s making her breathless.

It feels too fast.

It feels like they’ve been waiting an age – circling each other, considering, wondering.

Karin pauses, and then deliberately slides her hand up under Blue’s shirt.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Blue says, half a gasp, and presses her lips against Karin’s neck, and Karin leans down and everything crumbles around them.

/

Shaun tosses their folder back onto the desk and leans back, his eyes wary. “So you think you have a lead on the bastard,” he says.

“We think,” Karin says.

“Take it up with Interpol,” he says.

“He knows they’re coming,” Blue says. “It’s all over the news. He knows how to evade them.”

“You’re an idiot if you think that’s the only investigation going on,” Shaun says. “Of course there are more organizations after him. What makes you think you can catch him?”

“Nothing,” Blue says. She can feel Karin’s eyes on her. “Just count me in the race, that's all.”

Shaun studies her.

Blue waits.

/

“Damn,” Karin says, after a pause.

Blue flips her hair back and forth. “You like it?” she asks teasingly.

Karin reaches out and runs her hand through the short, cropped length of Blue’s hair, a wondering expression on her face. Then she pulls back fast, unsure. “It looks good,” she says, and clears her throat. “You’re – you look good.”

Blue smiles.

/

“You’ll be careful,” Karin says. Her face is drawn and solemn. “You’ll check in every day. You’ve got your phone?”

Blue pats her pocket. “Got it,” she says.

“He’s dangerous,” Karin says. “Remember that.”

_Don’t do anything reckless_ , she means. “I know,” Blue says. “I’ll keep my distance.”

Karin purses her lips and looks down. There’s nothing more to say; they’ve gone over this too many times, enough for them both to have tired of it. Blue glances around the bustling airport. No one is taking notice.

“I’ll be waiting,” Karin says. “As long as it takes.”

Blue pulls her in, kisses her: fast, hurried. "I’ll come back,” she says, breathless.

“Boarding flight 270A to Johannesburg,” a flight attendant calls out.

Karin draws back and kisses her on the forehead. “I know,” she says.

Blue glances back one last time as she steps into the gangway, but Karin is already gone.


End file.
